


bruises

by thelosersclub



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Abuse, Friendship, Slurs, i wrote this with richie's dad being abusive sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:44:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelosersclub/pseuds/thelosersclub
Summary: Richie doesn't know what to do, except go over to Stan's house.Except Stan was having a hangout night with Bill, and he shouldn't interrupt them.But his door opens.or,Richie's father is a piece of shit and Stan's house is always open for him





	bruises

Richie doesn't know what to do, except go over to Stan's house.  
  
Except Stan was having a hangout night with Bill, and he shouldn't interrupt them.   
  
But his door opens.   
  
"I know you're awake." His father snarls, and he whimpers involuntarily. "Get your ass up."   
  
Hesitantly, Richie climbs out of bed, following his dad down the stairs to the living room. He's about to be off the stairs when his father suddenly turns around and slaps him, knocking him down.   
  
"Listen, you little gay fairy." He can smell the alcohol on his father's breath as he leans in. "I know what you are. I would love to kick you out of the goddamn house and never see you again, but I would have to pay." He punches him in the head, and then in the stomach and crotch quickly, before shoving him back on the stairs, making Richie cry from the pain of the stairs pressing into his back and the bruises forming.   
  
His father pulls him up, and lets go, and Richie thinks, hopes that his father is letting him go, but before he can movie his father punches him in the face, before grabbing his throat, choking him.   
  
"If I hear you doing any gay shit, I will kick you out of this fucking house. I don't give a shit if I have to pay if you're doing gay shit in my house." He shoved him to the floor, and laughed as Richie scrambled up the stairs, locking his door and throwing as many clothes as he could into his backpack.   
  
His tears dripped down his face as he jumped out of the window, the tears being washed away by the pouring rain.   
  
He ran as fast as he could to Stan's house, needing him.   
  
He knew he could enter through the front door already. Stan had told him his parents weren't going to be home the entire weekend, because he knew Richie always wants to know if he has to enter through the window or if he can enter through the front door.   
  
Today, he can enter through the front door.   
  
As soon as he gets there, he realizes he left the spare key Stan gave him at home, but he doesn't care. How could he care? He's not at home. He's away from his father.   
  
He knocks on the door, still crying, the bruises forming more and more as every second passes by. It takes a few minutes, but by the time Stan answers the door, Richie's soaking wet, crying with purple and red bruises on his arms, face, and neck.   
  
"Oh, Richie." Stan sadly whispers as Richie falls into his arms, crying as he grips onto him.     
  
They stay there for a few minutes, until there's a clap of thunder and Richie flinches, gripping Stan even tighter.   
  
"C'mon," he says in a soft voice as he shuts the front door, locking it, "Why don't you take a bath? You must be dirty from your house."   
  
It was true. At Richie's house, he's not allowed to use running water unless he's washing the dishes, so the only times he can take showers or baths are at the others houses. Even then, he rarely gets to go to their houses.   
  
Richie simply nodded as he followed Stan, shivering as they walked up the stairs. Stan took his backpack when Richie handed to them. "I'll go wash these."   
  
"Can I come with you?" Richie's voice was quiet, quieter than Stan had ever heard him talk, "I-I don't want to be alone right now."   
  
Stan smiled at him, "Why not?" Richie grabbed his hand as they walked down the hall. He emptied the bag of clothes into the washer, putting in the detergent before starting.   
  
They walked back towards the bathroom, Richie shivering as they went in. Stan started the water, making sure it was hot while Richie started taking off his clothes.   
  
"Hey, Stan?" Richie's face was red when Stan turned towards him, "Can you help me get my shirt off? It keeps rubbing against the br-bruises."   
  
Stan stands up, holding the collar as Richie pulls the shirt off. "Thank you." Richie's voice is still quiet, so Stan barely hears him, but he smiles.   
  
"You're welcome."   
  
Stan goes to go out the door, when Richie grabs his wrist. "Don't go! Please!" He sounds panicked, so Stan turns around slowly.   
  
"I'm going to go across the hall for a few seconds. All I'm going to do is tell Bill why I haven't been with him for ten minutes okay?"   
  
"Can he come in here too? I," Richie stops for a second, face turning red from embarrassment, but Stan grabs his hand, and he continues, "I feel better when more people I trust are in the room."   
  
"Do you want me to help you wash your bruises?"   
  
"Can you also help me clean my cuts?" He holds up his arms, where there were slashes all over them, and they seemed recent.   
  
"Where are these from?"   
  
"My dad." Richie starts crying again, and Stan hugs him, messing with his hair while Richie slowly stops crying.   
  
"Of course I'll help you Richie. I bet if I asked Bill, he'll help too."   
  
Richie smiled at that, hugging Stan again. "Thank you Stan. You're the greatest person ever."   
  
Stan smiled at him, messing with his hair before walking across the hall, opening the door to his bedroom.  Bill was sat on his bed, closing the book he was reading and standing up as Stan came into the room.   
  
"Who was at the door?" He questioned, walking over to Stan to wrap an arm around him.   
  
"Richie, and I promised him I would be in here for less than a minute." He tugged Bill along with him into the bathroom, where Bill sat on the sink while Stan sat on the toilet.   
  
The shower curtain were pulled until you could only see Richie's head. He didn't want them to see the rest of his body.   
  
"Richie, do you want us to help?" Stan asked gently, and Richie tilted his head up to look at him, before nodding. Stan got on his knees beside the tub, carefully making sure not to get water on his clothes as he grabbed a washcloth, wringing it out before grabbing the soap.   
  
Bill knelt beside him, grabbing a washcloth from underneath the sink first. He wetted it first, before gently running it over Richie's arms, making sure not to irritate the cuts. He dipped the washcloth into the water again, bringing it back up to rub over Richie's legs.   
  
There were bruises on Richie's legs too, and his stomach dropped more and more with each bruise he saw. He made sure to not be rough on his legs, gently cleaning them.   
  
He brings his head up, about to ask Richie a question when he notices that he's asleep in the tub.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i couldn't figure out how to end this so here's this mess lol
> 
> also send me prompts on @billysfreddy and i will love u forever bye


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